


Golden Corolla

by AmazinglyMediocre



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Police, Angry Gavin Reed, Detectives, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Relationships, Gavin Reed is Bad at Feelings, I'm Bad At Tagging, Language, M/M, Slow Burn, connor's a beat cop, niles is a good baby brother, no beta we die like idiots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-07-11 17:23:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19931749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmazinglyMediocre/pseuds/AmazinglyMediocre
Summary: Detective Gavin Reed is assigned a case with Corporal Connor Stern in the hopes that both of them will receive a promotion. Gavin doesn't quite get the point.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> howdy partners
> 
> this is my first long fic in a while
> 
> it's in the same universe as my sick day and graduation fics, just a prequel (obviously)
> 
> uh yeah
> 
> have fun i tried really hard

“Reed, my office in five.” Fowler called from his office doorway, his voice booming and drawing the attention of practically everyone in the building.

Gavin waited until the door was shut before letting out a long sigh.

“Have fun with that one,” Hank grumbled from his desk. “It’s almost never good when he wants you first thing in the morning.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Gavin pushed a hand through his hair, flopping back against the back of his chair. “He’s probably going to put me on some stupid assignment.”

Hank snorted, his eyes following something behind Gavin’s head. He spun his chair around to see one of his least favorite beat cops walking towards Fowler’s office. 

Gavin groaned and put his head in his hands. Connor Stern was The Worst cop in the world. Not in the work sense—he was one of the best cops around—but in the person sense. He hated working with Officer Stern because not only was he always right, he knew he was always right. On top of all that, he was infuriatingly attractive, with tousled chestnut waves and legs long enough his regulation pants probably barely tucked into his boots. And seeing him walking into the damn captain’s office three minutes before he was supposed to was not a good sign.

“I’m sure you’ll get along just fine,” Hank’s condescending tone didn’t make things any better. “He’s probably just here to see Niles."

That, too. Officer Stern was directly related to the department’s cyber security officer, Niles Stern. They had practically the same face, except Niles was built like a refrigerator and had the baleful stare of a goat and the sense of humor to go with it.

Gavin scuffed his feet the whole walk across the precinct, knocking on the doorframe as he opened the door to Fowler’s office. “You wanted to see me?”

Fowler gestured at the chair that wasn’t occupied by Officer Stern. “Sit down, Detective.” 

“Detective Reed,” Officer Stern stuck out a hand once he was settled. Gavin just gave him a short nod.

Fowler leaned forward to lean his elbows on his desk and laced his fingers together. “I’ll make this brief, as Stern has already had a long enough morning. As I’m aware, the two of you are both looking to promote. Corporal Stern to detective, and Detective Reed to sergeant.” Of course he made a special allowance for the idiot, even though he’d probably just had a rough commute.

Gavin just knew he needed this stupid promotion. Not only would it be a pay raise and a better title, it meant the department would cover his education costs if he wanted to pursue his master's degree and maybe, if he was lucky, eventually become a captain.

“That’s correct,” Officer Stern nodded, breaking him out of his future plans.

Fowler barely spared Gavin a glance to confirm. “Because we require officers to shadow and work with a detective before promotion, and because we require a detective to demonstrate his ability to complete his job prior to promotion, myself and the chief have decided to pair the two of you on a case.” Gavin’s heart sank to the pit of his stomach. “You will evaluate each other’s work and, pending your ability to work together and contribute to a case, we will determine whether or not to go forward with your promotions.”

“Is that really necessary?” Gavin gripped his knees with both hands. “I mean, you’ve seen what I can do. I solved the Donahue case in just a week—I don’t need to have some beat cop following me around.”

“Detective Reed, I would suggest you keep your mouth shut.” Fowler turned a withering glare on him. “Working with Corporal Stern and allowing him to shadow you is your indefinite assignment. I’ve decided to assign the two of you to a recent case involving the murders of three police officers.” He pushed a pair of folders across his desk, which Officer Stern immediately took. “If you cannot get along, Detective Reed, your promotion will be in great jeopardy.”

“Understood,” Gavin could almost hear his mom yelling at him to stop sticking his chin out. 

“Your assignments begin today. Remember: this is not a competition. You two are here to help each other. That’ll be all.” Fowler waved the two of them out.

Gavin couldn’t get out of the office fast enough. He wordlessly skulked to his desk and flopped into his chair. Officer Stern followed him, moving to lean against the inside of his desk.

“Give me the files,” he stuck one hand out without looking at the corporal.

“They’re duplicates,” Officer Stern only handed him one and opened the other.

Gavin cast a baleful look across the walkway at Hank, who was carefully not looking at him. There was a stupid smirk on his face.

“My name is Connor, by the way,” Officer Stern held a hand out to shake. “I know we’ve worked together before, but I thought I would make a proper introduction, since we’ll be working together.”

Gavin ignored his hand again. “I know.” He opened the yellow folder and flipped through the papers and images inside.

Three officers were dead, all in very similar fashions. Their identities were random, but each one was killed with a shot to the head or chest at a traffic stop. Each stop was carried out on the same car, according to dashcam footage. The suspect was a white male of unknown age—their only identifier was the sleeve tattoo on his left arm. All three murders had taken place in the same half-mile radius, but traffic cameras never picked up on the car in the area.

And they had no idea who the killer was. The car was a 1990s golden Corolla with no plates, which explained why so many cops had pulled him over. Odds were, the car was stolen. He typed in the vehicle description on his computer and pulled up nearly thirty stolen golden Corollas.

Gavin snapped his head up when Officer Stern’s radio let out a long, shrill tone, followed by another lower tone and a dispatcher. He’d always hated dispatch tones—they grated on his ears and, like an alarm clock, startled him every single time.

“Would you turn that down?” Gavin glared at him. “You don’t need it on in here. Do you see a radio anywhere else?”

“Sorry, I forgot to turn it down,” Officer Stern reached behind his back to turn the radio down. Gavin tried his hardest to ignore the way his uniform and vest pulled tight across his trim chest. “Where do you think we should start?”

Gavin clicked his tongue and looked back at the file. To be frank, he had no idea. He turned back to him. “You know what? You tell me, detective-in-training.”

Officer Stern chewed the inside of his lip, puckering one side of his mouth up. He flipped through the papers for a short moment, eyes scanning the pages. “We should double-check the dashcam footage. We might be able to get a look at the suspect’s face before he gets pulled over.”

As always, he was right. And it made him mad. He should have come up with that, not the corporal. 

“That’s where I’d start,” Hank butted in from his desk. “That’s about all you can do with that case.”

“You know about this?” Gavin leaned over to look at the lieutenant around Officer Stern’s ass on his desk. 

Hank nodded, leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed. “I read through it. You got any better ideas, Reed?”

“Of course I do,” he sneered. “But since we’re working together and Officer Stern here has to learn how to be a detective, I thought I’d let him make a decision.”

“Police lives are at stake, Gavin. If you have a better idea, you should probably use it.” Hank deadpanned.

“We’re going to check on the dashcam videos,” Gavin pushed himself out of his seat and snapped the file shut. 

Hank barked a dry laugh. “That’s what I thought.” He snagged Officer Stern as the two of them walked by. “Don’t let Reed scare you, Connor. He’s all bark and no bite.”

Gavin pretended like he hadn’t heard and led the way to the evidence locker.

The golden Corolla roared through the intersection, just slow enough not to be a total blur. He zoomed in on the image, blinking his screen-bleary eyes. Sure enough, he had a decently clear shot of their guy. Mid-40s, white, bald, and adorned with a lovely face tattoo. Though he couldn’t make out what the tattoo was or what it said, it was a huge step forward.

Connor took a moment to gloat and relish his success before he spun his chair around. He and Detective Reed had been in the evidence locker for the better part of the past couple of hours, each using a utility computer on the opposite side of the room. It was a stuffy little room, occupied by bookshelves, printing boxes, file folders, three computers and a checkout desk. Active cases were, thankfully, easily accessible.

He couldn’t decide how he felt about Detective Reed. Sure, he was a total asshole, but Connor also wondered if it wasn’t just a brave face. They’d worked together before and he knew Detective Reed was a fine officer—Connor was glad to learn from him. He was also the perfect kind of rugged with his stupid leather jacket, stubble, and scarred nose bone. So, a fine detective and a _fine_ detective.

Connor just hoped he would get over himself and at least try to get along. So far, he’d been nothing but mean. According to quick mentions here and there from Niles, Detective Reed had a biting sense of humor, a strong drive for success, an incredibly hard head and an even hotter temper.

It wasn’t like Connor couldn’t deal with a bit of abuse—he just didn’t want the chip on Detective Reed’s shoulder to affect his ability to get a promotion. The quicker they got this over with, the quicker he’d be a detective himself.

He cleared his throat and Detective Reed turned around expectantly. “I found our guy. We’re in luck—he’s got a face tattoo.”

“You’re kidding,” he turned, kicked off of the desk, and sent his chair scooting across the floor. Connor had to catch his chair to stop him from running over his toes.

Detective Reed took a long moment to look at the screen, squinting surprisingly green eyes at the image and rubbing his palms on his jeans.

“Looks like a trailer park Post Malone,” he finally commented.

Connor couldn’t help but smile. “Post Malone already looks like trailer trash.”

There was a short pause, then Reed slapped one hand on the desk. “Print that out,” He stood up and pushed his chair back to the other desk. “We’ll have to check the archives for him.”

Connor was more than happy to get up and stretch his legs. He tramped up the stairs and across the precinct to the printer, his work boots just a little too loud on the clean tile floor. Lieutenant Anderson lazily watched him, looking quite a lot like the photo of a Saint Bernard on his desk.

Detective Reed had a new snipe ready for him when he went back down the stairs. “So, how is it being a little security guy for the Tigers?” 

Of course. Large-event security was often a little boring, but generally a nice break from the day. “It’s actually quite nice. I get paid to go to games and concerts, and I get free merchandise.” He gave his best smile. “It’s much, much better than being chained to a desk and an evidence locker all day.”

Just a touch of confusion passed Detective Reed’s face, then he set his jaw and his brow. “You know how to use the convict database. Have fun.” He snatched his copy of the suspect’s face out of Connor’s hand and stuffed it into his file.

Connor plopped back down in his chair and started digging through the database. Judging by the incredible lack of clicking and typing on Detective Reed’s part, followed by the clatter of his phone on the desk, he was pissed. Probably blowing up someone’s phone or live-Tweeting about how much he hated his shadow.

Thankfully, the database had filters. He narrowed his search down to 40s, bald, white, and tattooed, then let the computer do the work. Thousands of results suddenly dropped down to fewer than 50. And, after eliminating any deceased or currently imprisoned results, he had a list of twelve men.

Connor held his copy of the guy’s face up next to his screen as he sorted through, deleting faces as he went. He didn’t like how the hair on his neck stood up when Detective Reed swiveled his chair around.

“You know one of the primary skills for a detective is good facial recognition, right?” He didn’t bother scooting across the room, likely because he wasn’t actually paying any attention to what Connor was doing.

“Human facial recognition works best when you’ve actually seen the person in real life, not in a profile shot on a dashcam video. I’d rather get this right the first time.” Connor tossed the sheet of paper back to the desk, resisting the urge to insult Detective Reed’s lack of work. He hadn’t even opened the database on his computer.

“Uh huh,” he took his phone off of the desk and stuffed it into his pocket when he noticed Connor’s eyes on it. “Maybe you should be working on finding him, instead of arguing about being a detective, Corporal.”

“It’s a good thing I’ve already found him,” Connor scooted back from his desk again. “Alexander Mackenzie is his name, and he’s already done quite a bit of time for violent felonies.”

“Do we have an address?”

“Of course,” Connor hit command-P on the keyboard and got up out of his seat, this time pushing it back into the desk. “I’m printing it out now.” He cast Detective Reed a sideways glance as he gathered his file back into its folder. This assignment was going to suck.


	2. Chapter 2

Naturally, no one was home when they pulled up and there was no sign of the golden Corolla. They were standing out in the cold on the doorstep for nothing.

Gavin rapped his knuckles on the door one last time. “Detroit Police! Alexander, come to the door!”

Officer Stern was at the bottom of the steps, leaning against the railing with his thumbs in his pockets. His holster was unclasped, though. He wasn’t as relaxed as he looked.

They got nothing but silence from the house. Gavin pressed his lips together and looked around. No open windows, no unlocked doors, no easy way to the back door. They didn’t have a warrant, anyways. The best he could do was peek at the mail and hope Mackenzie was still living there.

Officer Stern perked up when he clanged the mailbox open and shoved his hand in. Sure enough, mail addressed to Alexander Mackenzie was inside. He dropped it back in the mailbox and started down the steps.

“Well, nothing we can do for now. We’ll have to stake this place out at some point,” he blew out a sigh, puffing his cheeks out. “We can do that in shifts. Right now, it’s sushi-for-lunch time.”

Officer Stern followed him back to his cruiser, folding those stupidly long legs as he slid into the seat. “I wouldn’t suggest trying to do this in shifts, Detective. He’s obviously a highly dangerous suspect—we’d be safer together.”

“'We’d be safer together,'” Gavin mocked him. “Yeah, yeah. That’s why people like you have radios. To call for backup.” He didn’t miss how Officer Stern’s mouth tightened for just a moment and his eyes darkened.

The ride back to the precinct was silent. And, as soon as they arrived, Officer Stern started in the wrong direction.

“Where the hell are you going?” Gavin waved a hand at him. “Entrance is this way, not into the rest of the parking garage.” It was barely lunchtime and he was trying to leave? Was he really that dumb?

Officer Stern’s car chirped on the next row over as he dug for his keys in his pocket. “My shift started at two. I’m going home.”

Oh. That’s what Fowler meant by a long morning. He’d already completed more than half of his shift by the time he’d come in for the 9 a.m. meeting with Fowler. 

Stern wordlessly turned and walked to his car.

Gavin couldn’t help but feel a little bad. He’d intentionally made things suck as much as possible and hadn’t even considered that Stern had already worked most of the night.

He locked his car and walked back into the precinct. They’d gotten a lot done, really. Not only had they found a lead, but they’d identified a suspect and even found a place of residence. That is, if he could even say they. He’d barely done anything, partly because he was being mean and partly because he just wasn’t fast enough.

It made him resent Officer Stern just a little more. He didn’t enjoy being shown up by a beat cop, especially not when he was supposed to be shadowing.

“I take it Stern’s shift ended?” Hank barely glanced up at him when he walked in.

Gavin nodded. “Good riddance,” he opened one of the drawers in his desk and threw the file inside. He didn’t want to look at it. 

“He’s just going to be back tomorrow or the next day, you know,” Hank looked at him this time.

“Don’t remind me,” Gavin pulled his phone out of his pocket to find several texts from Tina.

Hank cleared his throat expectantly, waiting until Gavin looked at him to actually speak. “He’s got promise. I know he did all of the work today, and I’d bet his field work is just as good.”

“He’s a prick,” he threw one hand in the air. “He said I spend all my time at a desk and a bunch of other insulting shit.” The desk thing was really the only insult he could think of, actually. 

“Are you trying to scare him off?” Hank leaned forward, putting his forearms on his desk. “Because I don’t think that’s going to work, and it just makes you look like the asshole. I watched him introduce himself and try to shake your hand, and you just looked at him. Get over your little ego and work with him.”

Gavin just rattled out another furious text to Tina, then shoved his seat back. “I need coffee,” he grumbled.

He was waiting for the Keurig to warm up when Niles walked in, Tupperware in one hand and phone in the other.

“I can’t believe you were in the precinct and didn’t come to say hello,” he nodded at Gavin as he walked in, cold gray eyes barely skimming over him before settling on the microwave. Gavin could barely hear the voice on the other end of the line as he passed, and it sounded suspiciously like the other Stern’s. It didn’t take much detective work to deduce that Niles was on the phone with his infuriating brother.

“He’s an ass, Con.” Gavin wished he didn’t like the sound of that nickname. "That’s how he is. You just have to deal with it for a couple of weeks, tops.” Niles snapped the lid off of his Tupperware and slid the container into the microwave. “Then, once you’re actually in, you can hang out with me.”

Gavin realized he was standing there like an idiot when Niles reached over and pressed the pour button on the Keurig for him. He also realized Niles knew he was listening. His coffee couldn’t pour fast enough.

And, of course, Fowler was waiting for him when he stepped out of the break room.

“Reed, do you have a minute?”

“Of course,” Gavin climbed the few steps to his door and stepped inside, not bothering to close the door.

“I thought I’d request a first-day assessment of Officer Stern’s behavior and abilities,” Fowler wasn’t planning on keeping him long, judging by the way he hovered next to his desk instead of sitting behind it.

Gavin blinked. “I didn’t realize you’d be asking me how he’s doing, like, every day.”

“Please tell me you actually paid attention and made progress and didn’t text Officer Chen all day,” Fowler narrowed his eyes.

“No, no, we got plenty done,” Gavin nodded. “Officer Stern is learning, I guess. He suggested we look through dashcam footage.”

“And?” Fowler arched one eyebrow. “Did you make any progress?”

“I found our guy,” Gavin stuffed his free hand in his pocket. Guilt was smoldering in his chest even as he spoke. “Got a screenshot of his face and then went through the database for him. He wasn’t home when we tried to make a visit, though.”

“Good work,” Fowler nodded. “Try and keep him involved. Don’t just make him watch.”

“Of course not,” Gavin took a sip of his coffee. “Did you need anything else?”

“You can go back to your business,” Fowler dipped his head for a moment and Gavin took his cue.

He could feel Niles’s stare burning into the back of his skull as he returned to his desk.

Gavin struggled to settle himself down that night. He hated being guilty, and he hated that he’d been so horrible out of jealousy. His stomach burned and his dinner tasted watery and wrong. 

He knew he’d fucked up. Only time would tell how bad.

Stern was waiting for him the next morning, long legs stretched out as he leaned in his new usual spot against Gavin’s desk.

“We’re staking out the Mackenzie residence for the day and gathering information on his relatives and any close contacts,” he didn’t even bother with a greeting, standing up as soon as Gavin sat down.

“Hold on,” he took a long drink of his coffee. “And restart. Who said you were taking point?”

“I did.” Officer Stern pulled his keys out of his pocket. “And we’re taking my Taurus.”

Where the hell had this come from? He’d been more than happy to follow Gavin’s lead yesterday, and now he was trying to put himself in charge.

“Hell no,” Gavin crossed his arms. “We’re following my lead and we’re using my car. You are not in charge here,” he trailed off into an exasperated laugh. It came off as near-panicked instead.

Stern just looked at him.

“Why would we drive your stupid Orca when we don’t want to be noticed?” Gavin yanked his drawer open and pulled his copy of the file out. He didn’t miss that Stern’s was a tad thicker than his.

“Because your ancient Crown Vic is so obviously a police car, it might as well have the logos all over it. If we get into a pursuit, I’d much rather be in a supercharged intercept vehicle than a retired detective’s car.” Stern bent to put one hand on the desk, getting just close enough to make Gavin squirm. “Now get up.”

Gavin wasn’t sure if he liked this frigid new Stern. He also wasn’t sure what had brought it on. There was no way Niles had heard him talking to Fowler, right?

They were parked underneath a tree across the street from Mackenzie’s half an hour later. The place looked as empty as it had the day before. 

Stern’s car wasn’t an Orca, either. Gavin felt a little jealous of the slick gray paint job and reflective logos that really only showed up in direct light. The dumb car didn’t even have lights on top of it.

“I did some extra research,” Stern pulled his file out of his door pocket and held it out. “Our suspect has a pretty damning social media presence.”

Gavin resisted the urge to snatch it from his hand and opened the file. The first pages were screenshots of Tweets and Facebook posts, all carried out by Mackenzie or a Twitter under the name of @Maxander. Several of the screenshots were as hateful as he’d ever seen, and not just towards the police.

“How’d you find him?” He glanced over at Stern, who didn’t take his eyes off of the house. 

“Easily,” he sat back, one hand lazily draped over the gearshift. “I’ve noted a few names to contact, including a recent ex-girlfriend.”

Gavin turned the pages to find a handwritten sheet of names, phone numbers, and addresses. All he noticed was the sharp, angular handwriting and slightly smeared lines. Stern was a leftie and he’d never even noticed.

He was simultaneously surprised and unsurprised. Stern had thoroughly covered all of his bases, and he’d done it with incredible efficiency. A lot of aspiring detectives lacked one or the other—the thought or the speed. 

It wasn’t really surprising with Stern, though.

“Why am I even here? You’ve got this under control,” Gavin glanced at him again. At least being nice would ease his conscience a little.

This time he looked back. “I’m shadowing, Detective. You’ll notice I haven’t actually doneanything without you present or without letting you know.”

“That was kind of a compliment, you prick.” Gavin rolled his eyes. 

Stern let out a quietly huffed breath that was something like a laugh. “And I thought you hated me.”

“Who says I don’t?” Gavin reached up and spun Stern’s computer around in its stand. “Let me know if you want to trade. I’m going to research Mackenzie’s next of kin.”

Stern gave him one more look, then looked back at the house. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y’all i am really sorry about how this story breaks apart for chapters because i wrote it as one giant chunk and now it’s just kind of horrible breaking it up


	3. Chapter 3

Their stakeout was, again, entirely unsuccessful. Connor was beginning to doubt if Mackenzie even still lived there. They’d spent much of their time in silence, the only sound being cars driving by and the clack of the keyboard as Reed did his thing.

And Reed had complimented him, which entirely caught him off guard after yesterday’s endless abuse. He might have appreciated it if he didn’t have the sinking suspicion it was to ease his guilty conscience.

Reed’s underhanded behavior and willingness to lie to make himself look good didn’t bode well with him. He’d been perfectly willing to try and make friends before, but decided to hold him at arm’s length.

He hadn’t slept well, not after what Niles told him and the exchange he’d overheard. It was clear Detective Reed thought they were in a competition, even though they weren’t. Of course, there was also the off-chance Reed was afraid he’d lose his job to Connor, but that was silly—he was literally up for a promotion.

“I’ve got an idea,” Reed spoke up as they pulled up in front of the precinct. “Do you work another two a.m. tomorrow?”

“Yes. Why?” Connor didn’t bother to put his car in park.

“Come to the precinct then. I have a feeling Mackenzie’s leaving early in the morning.” Reed opened the door, kicking it open with his right foot. “I’ll be here, don’t worry. Working a 9-5 hasn’t made me a total ape.” 

With that, the door slammed shut and Reed was gone. Connor sighed, slouching back against his seat as soon as he was out of sight. 

His dreams were ugly that night, filled with false suspects and lying partners. Connor couldn’t even be glad he’d slept. 

He shut off his horribly annoying alarm clock and sat up to take a long drink of water. He had a long, long shift ahead of him. Then he’d finally, blissfully, have a couple of days off. Three, to be exact.

He planned to spend them in bed.

His commute was quiet, as always, with the usual stop at the police station to swap his RAV4 for his patrol car.

“Morning, Stern,” Markus yawned at him as he walked into the station. “You look horrible.”

“Thanks?” Connor stopped to rest his elbows on the counter that served as Markus’s desk. “Anything happen overnight?”

“Nothing much,” Markus fiddled a pen between his fingers. “How’s shadowing going?”

He pushed a hand through his hair and shook his head. “It sucks, if I’m honest. I’m shadowing Detective Reed and he’s pretty much intentionally making things as horrible as possible.”

“Oh, Gavin,” Markus laughed. “Has he asked you how security work is?”

“Of course. He’s also lied and taken credit for the work I did.” 

Connor watched his friend’s mouth drop open. Markus leaned forward and grabbed the edge of the counter. “Drag him.” 

“What? No. I’m just going to deal with it. If we can finish this case, we’ll both be promoted.” Connor stood up off of the counter. 

“You know that’s not how it’s going to go.” Markus was serious, his two-colored eyes dark. “He’s making you look incompetent. This isn’t just making things difficult on you, Con. This is putting your job in danger. Drag the son of a bitch and go be the best detective in the city.”

He backed away from the counter. It was uncomfortable, thinking about getting someone back like that. “Thanks for the advice, Markus. I’ll see you tomorrow or whenever.” 

He couldn’t really look at Reed the same when he walked into the precinct. The detective in question was throwing back a cup of coffee, rubbing one red eye. 

“Good morning, Detective,” Connor stopped at the end of his desk. 

Reed half-jumped when he spoke and slammed his empty coffee cup onto the desk. “It’s 1:57 a.m. I wouldn’t call that morning.”

And, naturally, Reed was asleep twenty minutes into their watch. Connor didn’t bother to wake him. 

The Mackenzie house was quiet for the first couple of hours, though Connor couldn’t stop noticing a single light on. Based off of the city-written blueprints for the house, the light was in the master bedroom.

He plugged his earpiece into his radio and put the clear plastic in his ear. He might as well listen to what the rest of the city had going on. Which was: the usual. Occasional traffic stops, a DUI check, someone breaking into a home.

Reed quietly snored in the seat next to him. 

Connor rested his elbow on the windowsill next to him and put his head into the heel of his hand. He had literally nothing to do but stare at the house. He couldn’t call Mackenzie’s next of kin until the sun was up and there was very little left that the two of them hadn’t researched. Staying awake was no issue—two a.m. was practically seven a.m. for him.

Instead he counted cars—seven over the past four hours—and watched that little light in the window. A slow rain started to fall, soaking into the grass and dappling the windshield.

And, like magic, Alexander Mackenzie stepped out of the front door at 6:36 a.m. His heart jumped into his throat. Mackenzie could very, very easily injure or kill him.

Connor threw the lights on and jumped out of the car. 

“Alexander Mackenzie!” He started across the street, reaching for his pistol. “Detroit Police! Put your hands up!” 

Mackenzie, of course, turned and ran like hell. He darted around the side of the house and into the backyard. Connor unholstered his pistol as he skidded around the corner and pushed off of the side of the house.

Mackenzie threw himself over the chain link fence in the backyard, stumbling and rolling through the gravel alleyway. 

Connor swapped hands with his pistol and used the other to grab his radio. “This is unit 51, I need backup for a foot pursuit on the 7000 block of Beechwood Street,” he panted. He slung himself over the fence and glanced over his shoulder. 

Absolutely no sign of Reed, as expected.

Connor poured on the speed as Mackenzie knocked over trashcans and boxes in his path. He vaulted what he could, dodged what he couldn’t, and crashed through the rest. 

He was nearly on the suspect when someone burst out of the yard on his right and sent him flying. Connor’s feet slipped out from under him and sent him sliding through the grit and mud. He smacked into the fence behind him, all the breath leaving his lungs with a stuttered breath.

“Shit,” Reed shouted, staggering into a dumpster. “Sorry, wrong guy,” he called over his shoulder as he turned and took off down the alleyway. 

Connor just lay there in the mud sucking wind. He could hear their backup on the way, but he knew they weren’t likely to catch Mackenzie. This was his territory and Reed had thrown away Connor’s one chance at catching him.

“Fuck,” Connor groaned as he rolled onto his elbows and slowly pushed himself to his feet. He fumbled for his radio, his hair muddy and dangling in his face. He wanted to swipe the mud out of his left eye, but he was filthy up to his elbows. “Be advised, I lost him in the alleyway behind Beechwood. Detective Reed is still in pursuit.”

He picked his pistol up out of the mud and shoved himself to his feet. His ribs hurt like hell.

“51, this is 200. I’m with Detective Reed at the intersection of Beechwood and McConville. He’s lost the suspect. We’re setting up a perimeter now.”

Connor tore his earpiece out of his ear and kicked a hole into the fence. “Fucking idiot!”

“Alexander Mackenzie!” Gavin jerked awake when Stern started shouting. He was already halfway across the street, barreling towards the house.

“Shit,” Gavin stumbled out of the Taurus and followed as fast as he could. If he ran along Beechwood and then between houses, he might have a better chance of catching up. His shoes slapped on the wet sidewalk—when did it start raining?—and veered between two houses down the street. It was almost too dark to properly find anyone, but he could hear them coming.

And he was half a second too slow. Mackenzie flew past and Gavin couldn’t stop before he slammed into Stern instead. He staggered to the side, fumbling for a dumpster to steady himself as Stern hit the fence. 

“Shit, sorry, wrong guy,” Gavin found his footing and took off again. Mackenzie turned left on McConville and, when Gavin rounded the corner, disappeared. He tried to follow, running to the next street and looking up and down the sidewalk, but he was gone. 

And, of course, Stern had called for backup. Another Taurus screamed up, sirens and lights blaring. 

“Where’s Connor?” Officer Manfred popped out of the car and his partner North followed.

“Down the alley. I lost our guy,”Gavin panted. 

“I’ll start looking,” North jogged off down the street while Officer Manfred looked back down Beechwood.

“51, this is 200. I’m with Detective Reed at the intersection of Beechwood and McConville. He’s lost the suspect. We’re setting up a perimeter now.” Officer Manfred held his radio up to his mouth as he spoke, rain dripping off of the brim of his cap.

Gavin heard Stern’s fury before he saw it. Shouted curses and the crack of wood followed by the loud clatter of a trashcan getting kicked down the alley.

He dared to walk to the top of the alley and looked down to see Stern striding towards them, wiping his pistol off on his sleeve. Gavin could see how soaked and muddy he was, even in the dark. 

He’d fucked up. Stern looked more like his brother than himself, his eyes narrowed and the usual curve of his lips pressed into a thin line. There was mud smeared across his cheek and clumping his hair into limp chunks.

“Look, I’m really sorry,” Gavin followed after him as he strode past. “It’s been a while since I’ve done any kind of foot pursuit.” 

“Save it,” Stern glared at him. “Do your job and help look for this guy.”

Gavin stopped and watched him squelch off of the curb and towards Officer Manfred. Stern, a damn corporal, was in better control of the situation than he was.

If he hadn’t fallen asleep and hadn’t tackled the wrong guy and hadn’t lied and hadn’t hadn’t hadn’t, they could have been done and through with the case by now.

He was starting to wonder if he was cut out for the promotion at all. Stern very clearly was—Gavin was just dead weight following him around.

They spent the next several hours combing the area for Mackenzie, and to no avail. He’d vanished. Gavin carefully avoided Stern until Fowler came on scene—then he couldn’t avoid the inevitable.

“Detective Reed,” Fowler was waiting at the temporary command truck. Stern was nowhere to be seen. “What happened?”

“Mackenzie left the house and we started a pursuit.” Gavin shrugged. “We lost him, Captain. I don’t know what else to tell you.”

Fowler just frowned. “And what happened to Officer Stern?”

“He slipped.”

“I see. Thank you, Detective. We’re going to wrap up before long. If we haven’t found him by now, we’re not going to.” 

“Thanks,” Gavin turned away and started to wander down the street in the direction of Stern’s Taurus. He glanced over his shoulder to find that Stern had materialized out of nowhere to speak to Fowler. Much of the mud on his uniform and face had dried, but he still looked like he’d been through the wringer.

Gavin slid into the passenger seat of the Taurus to wait.

Stern eventually returned, the slightest limp in his gait as he crossed the front of the car. He silently sat down and turned the car on. They’d been on-scene for more than twelve hours at this point, and it showed. Gavin knew his face was scratchier than normal and there were dark circles under Stern’s eyes.

“I’m—“

“I don’t want to hear it.” Stern cut him off.

Gavin sucked in a breath to talk, let it out, then took another one. “You know what? You’re hearing it anyways. You can’t just act like a kid and ignore me.” He twisted in his seat to face the corporal. “I’m sorry for fucking up this whole thing. I thought I could help and get the guy, and I fucked it up.”

Stern—no, Connor—tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “You are an asshole, Gavin Reed.”

Gavin resisted the urge to stick his chin out. “Thanks. Apology accepted, I guess?”

“Absolutely not.” Connor threw him a scathing look. “Not when it’s a reflex to ease your guilty conscience.”

Gavin snapped his mouth shut with a click. The rest of the ride was silent.

“What are you doing? Shift’s over.” He peered at Stern over the car when the corporal parked it and stepped out too. 

“Filing for a search warrant,” Stern stopped for a moment, opening the back door on his cruiser and unclipping his utility belt and his radio. He slung his gear into the back seat and fumbled around his side for the straps on his bulletproof vest. He finally found the straps and pulled the whole thing off, leaving him in his tight-fitting mud-stained uniform.

Gavin swallowed. He wasn’t sure if he was pissed about the search warrant or turned on watching Connor strip while fully clothed.

He locked the car with a chirp and breezed into the precinct. Gavin decided he was still pissed and followed him in.

“I don’t need you to come with me,” Stern turned on him at the top of the evidence locker stairs. “I’ve filed a search warrant before.”

“If you’re not ending your shift, I’m not ending mine.” Gavin stuck his chin out.

Connor just looked at him, then started down the stairs.

The search warrant didn’t take long—they had everything they needed, and Stern had clearly memorized Mackenzie’s address and vital information.

Anger and jealousy stewed in his chest. Officer Stern was going to steal his job, whether he meant to or not. And there was no way in hell Gavin was going to lose to a scrawny, pasty beat cop.

“Like what you see, Detective?” Gavin was practically seeing red by the time Stern shut off the computer and turned to face him. 

“Who the hell do you think you are?” He blurted. “Coming in here like you own the place and making me look like a fool?” The more he spoke, the louder he became. And the noise only fueled his anger. He knocked his fist against Stern’s chest. “Fucking kissing up to Fowler and Hank so you can take my hard-earned spot on this squad?”

Connor didn’t step back, even as Gavin stepped closer. “You’re making yourself look like a fool, sleeping on the job and tackling your own fucking partner,” dark brown eyes sized him up. “And if I remember correctly, it’s you kissing up to Fowler. I know you lied to him. I told him exactly what happened, and he informed me that he heard a very different story.” He leaned in just a smidge, using every extra centimeter of height he had. “You’re fucking up your own damn life, Reed.”

“The only thing I’m going to fuck up is you,” Gavin shoved him back. “You think snitching is going to get you the promotion?”

“No. Doing my job will.” Connor still didn’t flinch.

Gavin shoved him again, his hands thumping off of Stern’s shoulders. They were nearly against one of the desks. “Your job, Corporal, is to shut up and take orders from your superiors.” 

“Push me again.” Connor's mouth was pressed into a thin frown, his jaw clenched and the muscle showing below his cheekbones.

Gavin didn’t push him again. He threw a punch that landed square on the bridge of Connor’s nose. 

He realized what he’d done when Connor stumbled back against the desk, knocking the monitor into the wall behind it. There were tears streaming out of the corners of his eyes and blood beginning to dribble out of his left nostril when he looked up again.

And damn, if Gavin hadn’t forgotten he was a leftie. He threw himself off of the desk, leading with a vicious left hook into his jaw and somehow following through and using his momentum to elbow Gavin in the exact same spot. 

The lights flickered for a moment—or maybe it was his head—before Connor swept his feet out from under him and threw him flat onto the floor. Gavin, truthfully, had no idea what just happened.

Connor swiped the blood off of his face with an already-filthy sleeve. 

“Fuck the promotion,” he muttered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> muddy boy
> 
> also this is way late but follow me on instagram @ama_medi !! i post fanart and the occasional fic update there :) 
> 
> and hey, feedback is always appreciated


	4. Chapter 4

“I’m going to ruin whoever did this to you,” Niles murmured as he dabbed a cotton ball of antiseptic over Connor’s cut nose. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Connor sighed, his voice stuffy. “I got him back with that stupid elbow trick and dumped him on his ass.” He winced when the antiseptic stung a new bit of the cut, though wrinkling his nose only made the pain worse.

“Just tell me who it is,” Niles tossed the cotton ball into the trash and pulled out a band-aid. “And hold still.”

“I’ve been holding still,” he complained, closing his puffy eyes as his brother ever-so-gently put the band-aid on. “And I’d rather you not hurt him. He’s just an idiot.”

“It’s fucking Reed—I knew it,” Niles slapped his hands on his thighs and stood up from his stool. They were perched at the counter in Connor’s kitchen trying to clean up his mess of a face. “Have you reported it yet? I know he threw the first punch.”

“No, I’m not reporting it,” Connor took the ice packs Niles took from the freezer and held them to his eyes. They were already starting to puff up and stain purple. “I’m quitting the case, though.” 

He heard his brother stop stuffing things back into the first aid kit. Niles pulled his hands away from his eyes and sat down again. “I’m sorry, but no. You are not giving up on becoming a detective just because Gavin Reed is a piece of shit. You report him, work the case with Hank, and move on with your life while he works at a damn McDonald’s.”

“Markus told me that, too,” Connor let out a long breath. “I can’t do that. I really can’t. I couldn’t take his job like that and I clearly can’t finish the case with him, so I’m dropping it. I’ll try again with a different precinct or wait a while.” The ice packs helped cool down his stinging eyes and halfway hid how fucking close to crying he was. All the stress and the mud and the shit he’d dealt with over the past few days had built up to his limit. “He’s being shitty because he’s scared I’m going to make him look bad and take his job.” His stuffy nose made him sound miserable. “We both kind of brought out the worst in each other.”

Niles was quiet for a moment, then stood up and wrapped him in a hug. Connor half-laughed, standing to tuck his chin against his brother’s shoulder. 

“I won’t beat the shit out of him,” Niles clasped his hands behind Connor’s back. Connor swiped the hot tears away from his eyes with his hoodie sleeve, cringing when he pressed a little too hard. “But I’m also not going to let you quit that easily.”

“Just give me a couple days,” Connor sniffled. “Or weeks.” He felt like an idiot, crying over a job and hugging his little brother like his life depended on it. He supposed he was an idiot, if he thought about it. He was defending an asshole of a detective when he very well deserved a suspension or firing.

Gavin felt like shit the next morning, both literally and figuratively. Running around in the cold rain and getting punched and thrown like a ragdoll was never fun. Neither was facing the consequences of his stupid actions and hurting someone he halfway cared about. 

He was still in for a lot more pain. 

He rolled out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom, taking a moment to look in the mirror. Connor had stained his jaw purple and busted his lip inside and out. He still had a lovely fat lip and knot on his jaw even though he’d fallen asleep with a plastic baggie of ice on his face, which he’d managed to pop around three a.m. Waking up to half-cold water suddenly exploding under his shoulder had not been fun.

He was on a mission today, and it was going to suck. 

Gavin cleaned up as best he could, tugging on a clean pair of jeans and one of his usual v-necks. His leather jacket was filthy from the day before, so he shrugged on a blue DPD windbreaker instead.

It was his day off, and here he was going to work. Well, not going to work, but going to the precinct.

The commute was nice and quiet since it was 10 a.m. instead of 8:30. His usual parking spot was full, which he guessed he deserved. He missed seeing Connor’s annoying Taurus illegally parked in the parking garage—he’d come to expect it over the past few days. 

“Hey, kid,” Hank greeted him as soon as he walked in. “You do know it’s your day off, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” Gavin sat on top of his desk, legs dangling in the walkway. “Just meeting with Fowler.”

“You get that yesterday?” Hank tapped his jaw. “And where’s your shadow?”

“It’s his day off, too.” Gavin stuffed his hands into his pockets. “And yeah, of course I got this yesterday. I thought it was a good idea to get into a fistfight with a beat cop.”

He wanted to hide when Niles appeared from his cave of an office, dressed in his usual black turtleneck with a pen tucked behind his ear. He also gave Gavin his usual dead-inside stare.

“Uh huh,” Hank brought his attention back. “I don’t want to know what about. Go talk to Fowler before Little Stern scares you off.”

“Little? You mean he’s—“ 

“Yes, he’s the younger one. Three years’ difference.” Hank waved him off. “Scoot. I’m trying to get something done for once.”

His whole world was a mess. Niles was the younger Stern, Hank was actually working, he was going to apologize for something stupid he did, and he was in the precinct on his day off.

Gavin made sure he was as presentable as he could be before he dared to approach Fowler’s office, pushing loose hairs off of his forehead and straightening his jacket zipper.

“Captain? Do you have a minute?” He knocked on the doorframe. 

Fowler looked up from his laptop, then shut it. “Yes, I believe I do.”

Gavin shut the door behind him and took a seat in the same chair he’d picked a few days before. 

“Is there something you need, Detective?” Fowler laced his fingers together over his desk.

“No, I don’t think so. I mean, obviously, yes, but I don’t know how to put it.” He fidgeted, tucking one hand under his leg.

“I’m listening,” the captain adjusted the pens in his pen holder until they were perfect.

“I lied about the case.”

“I know,” Fowler calmly watched him, even though Gavin was practically shaking the whole precinct with his knees.

“Yeah, I thought you did,” he pushed a hand through his hair, sending the same pieces of hair back to his forehead. “Officer Stern has done almost all of the work on this case, and he would have finished it if I hadn’t tackled him. I, uh, I don’t want my fu—my mistakes to affect his promotion or anything."

Fowler sighed, leaning forward and pushing his laptop to the side. “Explain to me why you did this.”

Gavin squirmed, pushing his back further into the seat. “I got it into my head that Officer Stern was a threat to my job.”

The slightest wry smile twisted at the captain’s face. “Even after I expressly told the two of you that you were not in any kind of competition and could only help each other by succeeding.”

“Yes, after you told us all that.” Gavin couldn’t quite meet his gaze.

“Corporal Stern called this morning. He informed me that he’s no longer pursuing the case or a promotion to detective.” Gavin’s stomach sank through the floor, his chest hollow and his hands leaden. “And he specifically requested that you receive no penalty for physically attacking him.”

Gavin furrowed his brow. “Why?”

“Something about already returning the favor,” Fowler’s humor faded. “Look, Reed. I’m going to cut you some slack. You showed a lot of gut and maturity coming in here. I’m not happy with the shit you pulled, and it’s highly unlikely you’re going to receive any kind of promotion for a while. However, if you can complete this case and finish what Corporal Stern set up for you, I may reconsider.”

He looked down at his hands. The stupid promotion didn’t seem all that glamorous any more. He supposed he’d fucked that one up for himself and for Connor. “I don’t—“

“Reed, do not say whatever is about to come out of your mouth before I change my mind.” Fowler held up a hand as he cut him off. “Now get out of my office. I don’t want to see you until Sunday.”

“Understood. Thank you, Captain,” Gavin pushed himself out of his seat and got the hell out of that office.

He felt like he could breathe again and look at people without squirming out of his skin.

All he had to do now was convince Connor to come back, even if it was to work with Niles or Hank. Even if Gavin couldn’t move up to sergeant, he’d be damned if he let Connor stay with the DPD as a patrol cop.

“Detroit police! We have a search warrant! Open up!” Gavin shouted at the top of his lungs. He waited for any kind of a response, then stepped back to let the other officers ram the door in.

He was a little disappointed Connor wasn’t on the warrant team, but there was nothing to be done about that. He was fulfilling the search warrant Connor had filed for shortly before Gavin punched him in the face. His few days off were up and he was determined to figure the damn case out.

Alexander Mackenzie’s house was a wreck. Empty bottles and cigarette butts littered almost every surface in the house, giving the whole place a lovely aroma of various bodily cancers. The tiny living room was completely curtained off, the vacuum TV silent on its stand and the couch half-dusty. 

Mackenzie hadn’t returned since Connor had nearly caught him, it seemed.

Gavin picked through the piles of mail on the kitchen counter and did his best to ignore the dead flies smattered across the table.

“We’ve got drug paraphernalia,” one officer called from the bedroom. He brought out a black box that, unlike everything else in the house, was relatively clean.

“Careful, there’s needles,” the officer set it on the counter. Gavin cracked the lid open and wrinkled his nose. He could pick out at least three different bagged drugs, some of which had been poked open by the filthy syringes in the box. 

What interested him most was the brown journal tucked into the side of the box, though. He fished it out and tapped it on the counter, shaking white dust out of it. 

Gavin flipped through the pages. Mackenzie’s writing was scrawled all over, accompanied by drawings and diagrams of who-knows-what. He stopped on a page of names and addresses. 

“Someone’s got a few friends,” the officer muttered. Gavin just pulled his phone and a notecard out of his pocket and dialed the number he had.

Penelope answered on the fourth ring.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this Penelope?” Gavin closed the book and tucked it under his arm.

“This is she. Who’s asking?” He could hear the caution in her voice.

“This is Detective Gavin Reed with the Detroit Police Department. Do you have a minute?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess so,” she paused. “Is this about Alex?”

“I have a few questions about him, yes. Is there a time you could meet me in our precinct building downtown?”

Penelope was sitting across from his desk three hours later. She was a small woman, her stringy blonde hair pulled back into a braid and her eyes seeming just a little too large for their sockets. She had the thin, pockmarked face of an addict.

Gavin tapped his pen on the desk and started his recorder. “Thank you for meeting me on such short notice. I don’t want to take up much of your time, so I’ll get right to it. What was your relationship with Alexander?”

Penelope nodded for a moment. “He was my boyfriend for eight years. I lived with him for most of it, though we broke up a couple of months ago.” 

“Where are you living now?” He did his best to write her information down without looking—he had a recording to back him up anyways.

“I’m living with my mom,” she squeezed her hands between her legs.

A couple of months would have been just before Mackenzie killed the first officer. “What was his behavior like prior to the breakup?”

“He was mostly normal. He’s always been a little out there, I guess, but he wasn’t being too weird.” She crossed and uncrossed her legs.

“Why did you break up?” Gavin furrowed his brow. 

Penelope came to life, sitting forward in her chair and waving one hand in the air as she spoke. “He spent all of our savings! He went out and bought some stupid car with the money and I never saw the damn thing again.”

“What kind of car?”

“A goddamn beemer,” she let out a huff and sat back in the chair. “I told him he should have kept his Corolla—the thing was indestructible—but he got rid of it.”

Either she was lying about the Corolla or Mackenzie had hidden it from her. 

“What color was the Corolla?” He leaned forward, putting his elbows on his desk.

“It’s gold,” she gave him a cautious look. “Why?”

“Alexander is a suspect in the recent series of police killings we’ve seen, and a golden Corolla is involved in each one. Do you know anything about this?”

Penelope shut her mouth with a click. “I haven’t seen him or the Corolla since we broke up.”

“Did he ever say anything about wanting to hurt police officers or killing anyone?” Gavin didn’t miss how she shrunk into the seat, her knees rising and her shoulders curling in.

“He’s always been a little off, but he’d never hurt anyone,” she chewed her lip.

Gavin twiddled his pen in his fingers. “Are you aware of his violent felony charges in the past?”

“No,” she shook her head hard, a few hairs coming loose from her braid. “I had no idea.”

Gavin pursed his lips, glancing over his quick sheet about the case. If they’d been dating for eight years like she said they had, Mackenzie would have spent at least one of those years in prison—he’d only gotten out two years ago. He stopped the recording and shut his notepad.

“Thank you for your time. That’s all I need today, Penelope."

Connor half-woke to his phone buzzing away on the couch cushion next to his hand. Who the hell was calling him this late? Not that it was actually late—it was maybe eight p.m.—but it was late for him.

He squinted bleary eyes at the screen, not quite sure what he was reading for a moment. He didn’t recognize the number, and he didn’t like that the first three digits were 485. It was a city phone number.

He silenced the ringer and tossed the phone back to the cushion. If it was important, they’d leave a message.

He decided he had bigger things to worry about, like the fact that he’d slept through the majority of The Phantom Menace and the first chunk of The Clone Wars. 

Connor slouched a little further into the couch, his chin nearly to his chest. Tonight was for relaxing. He still had another day off tomorrow, too. 

His phone buzzed again. He slapped his hand on the screen as he picked it up, finding a voicemail waiting for him. Connor really, really didn’t want to listen to it, but he knew he would forget if he didn’t. He put the phone on his chest and let the voicemail play on speaker.

“Hey, Connor, it’s Gavin. We need to talk. Not about the case, but just in general.” It had been more than a week since they’d spoken, and Connor had done his best to forget about the whole case. “Uh, just give me a call back when you get the chance. Thanks.”

He found it much harder to relax when he put the phone down again.

Another voicemail on his office phone and an email were waiting for him when he went back to work a couple days later. The sender, of course, was Reed, Gavin James. James was a stupid middle name that he wished he didn’t know—it made Gavin more of a person and reminded him that he shouldn’t be ignored out of spite.

Connor ignored him anyways.


	5. Chapter 5

“Here’s his cubicle,” Markus fixed him with that odd two-colored stare. “Don’t break anything.”

“Got it,” Gavin watched the officer lope off, then slid into the crappy office chair Connor called home. He didn’t miss having a cubicle. The tiny desk was clean and organized, though it naturally looked cluttered because it was so small. He plopped Connor’s old copy of the case notes onto the desk and waited.

Gavin poked through the oddly nice pens in a Washington D.C. mug and glanced through the pictures and postcards pinned to the walls to occupy himself. There was no telling when Connor would return to his desk, even though his shift ended at 12.

It was oddly intimate to see the little notes Connor wrote to himself or the all-caps instructions he’d pinned to the wall above his monitor. There were a few pictures around, mostly of Connor and Niles. They looked strange in t-shirts and shorts on vacation or in parkas and snow gear on a ski trip. Or in anything that wasn’t a police uniform or black turtleneck, really.

Most entertaining was the bobblehead Porg figurine sitting just in front of his computer. Connor was, evidently, a Star Wars fan. He really, really didn’t know anything about Connor.

He was reaching to flick the thing’s head when someone cleared his throat. Gavin nearly shot out of the chair, spinning it around and backing against the cubicle wall. Connor was standing in the entry, keys in hand. Gavin slid the case file off of the desk, trying his best not to dump it all over the floor.

“Hey, uh, Connor,” Gavin coughed. “Sorry, Markus showed me where your desk was.” He didn’t miss the still-purple bruises under his eyes or the cut across the bridge of his nose. Even after a week and a half Connor still looked rough—the bruise on Gavin's jaw had almost entirely yellowed away. Gavin felt a pang of guilt. He’d done that, and to such a pretty face. 

Connor looked to be in good spirits, though, the slightest curve to his mouth and light in his eyes. “I was just heading out,” he set his cruiser keys on the desk, slowly shuffling into the tiny cubicle as Gavin shuffled out. “Do you need something?”

“Just a couple of minutes,” Gavin hovered just outside the cubicle as he pulled his bag out of the bottom drawer on his desk. He didn’t like feeling Connor’s coworkers staring at him. A redheaded officer—North, right?—was staring at him from just over her cubicle wall, and he could practically feel Markus’s two-toned gaze in the back of his head. “I—Did you get my messages?” 

“Yes, all five of them.” Connor slung his bag over his shoulder and brushed past him. Despite his clear expression, his tone was definitely not amused. He hurried after the corporal, catching up when they were nearly out of the building.

“Look, I wanted to apologize,” Gavin pushed the door to the parking garage open and held it. “I was a piece of shit to you, and I know I ruined more than a couple of things. I’m sorry I punched you and screwed up your face, too.” 

Connor fished his personal keys out of his bag. He had very few actual keys and more than a couple keychains. “I’m not apologizing for hitting you, if that’s what you’re looking for.” He threw a sideways glance at the detective.

“I’m not looking for that at all,” Gavin kicked a stray rock as they walked. “Why didn’t you report me?" 

“That’s a good question,” Connor stopped when they got to his car, turning to lean against the rear bumper. He drove a Toyota. Gavin filed that under Tiny Details He Didn’t Need. “Here’s the thing: every other apology you’ve given me was a load of steaming shit. What makes this one any different?”

He took a deep breath. This was the hard part. “It’s different because I mean it this time, and because I did something to prove it. I want you to come finish your case.” Gavin forced himself to make eye contact, even though his face was burning. He’d never been comfortable with this feeling stuff. He jerked one hand forward, holding out Connor’s file. He took it and glanced through the newest papers at the front.

Connor frowned, his black eyes making his face seem that much darker when he looked up again. “Why should I do that? I quit because you were terrible, and now you’re asking me to come back?” He crossed his arms, the file sticking out from behind one bicep. “That would be absolutely idiotic of me.”

“I want you to finish your case,” Gavin repeated. He wasn’t going to panic, even though his heart was in his throat and his hands felt just a little shaky as he stuffed them into his pockets. “I’m not trying for sergeant anymore—not that Fowler is likely to let me promote in the first place—but I don’t want you to sit here as a patrol cop when you’re clearly cut out for more.” He pushed a hand through his hair, then returned it to his pocket. “I carried out your search warrant and I’ve been working the case for the past week. We might be able to finish it in a few days, maybe less.”

He hated that Connor’s face barely changed. He had no idea what was going through his head, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know. Connor just looked at him, brown eyes searching his face, then the file. Gavin rocked back onto his heels, pulling his toes as high off the ground as he could.

“I’ll consider it.” He closed the yellow manila with a snap and cleared his throat. “Though I’m not making any promises.”

“That’s—that’s fine.” Gavin offered his best smile. “It’s better than a kick in the shins."

Connor half-rolled his eyes, his mouth lifting at one corner. “Maybe.”

“What are you working on?” North poked her head and shoulders over the cubicle wall, her arms hanging nearly to his desk.

Connor set the file on his desk and leaned back as far as his seat would go. “The stupid detective case.”

She arched one eyebrow at him. “Is that why Asshole Supreme was here a few days ago?”

“Why else would he be here?” Connor made a face at her. “Yes, he was here about the case.”

“One second,” North disappeared, followed by the clattering roll as she pushed her chair out of her cubicle and around the corner to his. “Are you going to get back on the case?”

He sighed, pushing a hand through his hair. “I think so. I don’t know what to do about Reed, though.”

North paused, pressing her lips together. Connor hated when she did that—it was her friendly confrontation face, and it always meant she was going to say something he needed to hear but didn’t want to hear. 

“You need to get to know him, Connor. You got thrown onto this case with a notoriously hard-to-deal-with detective, and that’s literally all you know about him. All he knows about you is that you like Star Wars and took a trip to D.C. once.” She cocked her head to the side to look at him and scooted a little further into his cubicle. “I think you two could be good together if you actually learned how to function as a unit.”

Connor ignored the little thrill in his chest and clasped his hands in his lap. “Okay.”

“Don’t just ‘okay’ me, Con. You know I’m right.” She nudged his knee with hers. “That’s literally how we managed to get along, because Markus forced us to spend time together with him.”

“Fine, yes, you’re right,” Connor put his head back and stared at the ceiling for a moment. “There’s no time to get to know him, though. If I’m back on the case we’re going to finish it as soon as possible.”

“I take back what I said—you two don’t get along because you’re an incredibly difficult person when you want to be.” North smiled, taking his phone off of his desk. “You ask him to get food, like, ASAP. That’s the easiest way to get someone to open up.” She tapped in his passcode.

“Do not,” Connor warned as he started to reach for the phone, but North just tucked one knee up and kept the phone out of reach.

“I’m not going to send anything,” she glanced up at him. “I’m drafting a monumental document that will finally resolve the stupid tension that’s been radiating off of you since you started the case.”

North twiddled her fingers for a moment before starting the text, reading each word aloud as she typed it. “Hey, Gavin… Would… you… like to… meet me for… breakfast to-mor-row?” 

“Why are you so loud?” Connor lamented. “I don’t even know where to meet him—that’s lunch for me.”

“Waffle House.” North was decided. “If Leslie Knope taught us one thing, it was that waffles can heal all wrongs.”

He picked up his pen off of the desk and started spinning it between his fingers while she finished the text, then tossed the phone into his lap. There it was, unsent and all. “Hey, Gavin. Would you like to meet me for breakfast tomorrow? 8 a.m. at the Waffle House on 12th?” 

“I will never forgive you if you don’t send that text,” North was watching him, eyebrows high. Connor sighed and tapped the little arrow to send it. She gave him a beaming smile and kicked his shoe. “See, that wasn’t so bad.”

Gavin nearly choked on his coffee when he saw the text.

“You good?” Tina hardly glanced up from her Tik Tok. They were, as usual, hiding from their responsibilities in the break room.

“Yeah, I’m good,” his voice came out as a weird little croak. He read the text a second time, then a third time because his brain wasn’t quite processing what he was reading. “I think. Stern just texted asking if I want to meet him at Waffle House tomorrow morning.”

“Why the hell does Niles want breakfast with you?” Tina set her phone down, casting a furtive look in the direction of Niles’s office. “I didn’t even think he ate anything—the man is a machine.”

“Not Niles,” Gavin set his coffee down. “Connor. I think Niles does keto or the carnivore diet or something.”

“Oh,” Tina nodded, realization dawning on her face. “That makes a lot more sense. Why do you know his diet?"

“Because he only eats weird stuff or straight-up meat.” Gavin twiddled his fingers over the screen, completely unsure of what to type. Because yes, of course he would get breakfast with Connor. It wasn’t even a question. He just didn’t know how to reply without sounding desperate or cold or Not Himself.

“Well?” Tina nudged his shoulder. “Are you going to bite?”

“I mean, yeah,” Gavin rattled out a response that felt halfway decent and hit send. Connor replied a few moments later with a “Great, see you then!” and he found himself reading way too far into the officer’s exclamation point usage.

“I thought he hated you,” Tina gave his phone a disdainful look. “He threw you under the bus and made you look bad.”

“I mean, he might still hate me, but it’s my fault. I was the one who made me look bad.” Gavin stuffed his phone into his pocket. He didn’t want to argue with Tina about this right now.

“He insulted you and punched you in the face and tattled to Fowler. That’s the definition of making you look bad.” She frowned at him. “Why are you being buddy-buddy with him? He’s a stuck-up patrol cop who thinks he can take your job.”

He frowned right back. “Tina, I started that fight and I lied to Fowler about his performance to make myself look good. I’m not being buddy-buddy, I’m being a decent human being and trying to make this right.” Gavin downed the last of his crappy coffee and tossed the cup into the trashcan.

She shook her head and tucked her phone into the front pocket on her jacket. “He’s been nothing but rude to you and you’re defending him.”

“What do you have against him? He’s done nothing to you, asshole.” Gavin started for the door, leaving her at the table. “I’ll see you later.”

“Have fun getting breakfast with the guy who’s going to steal you job, loser,” Tina retorted, pulling her phone out again. 

Gavin felt gross as he sat back down at his desk and tried to get back to work. Tina was literally discouraging him from trying to do the right thing, which was something she’d never done before. Sure, she’d griped and moaned when he tried to clean up his messes, but they’d never actually fought over it.

He squinted at the DMV records he had pulled up and found something unexpected: Alexander Mackenzie had the title to a BMW, yes, but the vehicle was registered to a Penelope Harris. Well, the Penelope Harris. She’d lied to him—the damn car was registered to her. There was no way Mackenzie could have registered the car in her name without her knowledge.

And, naturally, Penelope wasn’t answering his phone calls. He’d missed his window, and she and Mackenzie had likely disappeared into the sunset like some absurd Corolla-driving Bonnie and Clyde. All he could do was research and build the case and hope he and Connor could make some kind of a breakthrough.

Of course, that was if Connor wanted to meet him to give him good news. It was entirely possible that Connor was just being nice and was going to tell him to fuck off, but over waffles and not in that exact wording.

His shift had very quickly gone from average, to bad, to worse. And he couldn’t even text Tina about it.


	6. Chapter 6

“All units be advised, 23 is stopping a violent warrant suspect with 37 as backup on the 1100 block of Court. Units 51 and 33 are requested for further backup.”

Connor handed the license and registration he was holding back to the driver. “You’re good to go. Drive safe,” he turned and jogged back to his car. It was John Doe’s lucky night to get out of a ticket.

“This is 51, responding now,” he spoke into his radio as he jumped into the driver’s seat and threw his sirens on. He was only a couple of blocks away.

He didn’t want to think it was Mackenzie, but he almost knew it was. Mackenzie was the only traffic stop an officer would call for backup on. If only Gavin were here to see this. He’d tell the detective later.

Any thoughts of Mackenzie and Gavin disappeared into a haze of adrenaline when he heard gunshots over the scream of his sirens. Connor took the last turn as fast as he dared to and saw the damn golden Corolla on his right. Another set of deafening gunshots met his eardrums as he stopped, followed by a hot burn in the shell of his ear, and his passenger window exploding in.

Connor threw himself out of the car and drew his pistol, firing an entire clip into the Corolla as Mackenzie’s tires screeched. He could have sworn he saw blood, but he didn’t have time to look as he ducked to get his first aid kit from under his seat.

Officer Tate was sprawled out on the pavement with Simon just behind him. He could hear Tate’s agonal breaths before he saw his injuries.

“This is 51, we have two officers down and shots fired on Court. Send all available backup and EMS,” he holstered his pistol as he ran and dropped to his knees over Tate.

“Hold on,” he unstrapped Tate’s bulletproof vest on one side and one shoulder and threw the front plate to the side, ignoring the bullet casings clinking to the pavement. 

Tate’s eyes were wild as he grabbed one of Connor’s sleeves, his breath an odd wheeze that began in his chest and whistled out of his mouth. There was too much blood coming from a wound in his throat and his right armpit—too much for anyone to take care of. 

He did what he could anyways. Connor’s hands shook as he tore open a gauze packet and pressed it to his throat. “Can you hold this here?” He took Tate’s hand and pressed it to the wound. 

“We have officers in the roadway,” Simon’s voice over the radio sounded as shaky as he felt. “Private Tate is down.”

Connor ended up holding the already-soaked gauze to Tate’s neck with one hand and tearing open another pack with his teeth. The private was already fading. 

“Simon, can you move?” He glanced up at the other officer, who was sitting against one an apartment front on the other side of the sidewalk. “Where are you hurt?”

“My knee’s gone,” he called back. Connor cursed under his breath, even as Simon tried to say he was fine. He pressed two fingers to Tate’s throat and cursed louder when he didn’t feel a pulse.

“Are you hit?” Simon shouted as he started CPR. “Your head’s bleeding.”

“I’m fine,” Connor was too busy counting compressions to pay any attention.

He didn’t stop until EMS took over. One of the paramedics helped him to the nearest ambulance and sat him down on the rear bumper. Everything felt too far away and too real all at once.

“Turn your head,” the paramedic held him by the chin and the back of the head, then pressed something to his ear. It burned like hell, but it brought him back to the real world.

“Where’s Simon?” he tried to peer around the paramedic, but he was a massive man. His name was Luther, according to his name tag. He would have made Niles look small.

“He’s being transported,” Luther pulled his hand away from his ear and looked at it. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“I don’t think so,” Connor frowned. Was he? He didn’t hurt anywhere else, though his ear hadn’t hurt either. “What about Private Tate?”

“Look at my flashlight with just your eyes,” Luther held up a flashlight pen and waved it in front of his face, then clicked it and tucked it back into his pocket.

“Who do you have here?” Another paramedic with a blonde pixie cut poked her head around the door. “Any injuries?”

“A cut ear. Mental status is fine, if not a little shocked.” Luther stepped back as she stepped forward. Her name tag read Kara. There was a ring on her finger that flashed in the white ambulance light as she reached for his head.

“I’m fine,” Connor resisted the urge to push her hand down. “Tell me about Tate.”

Kara took a long breath and glanced back at Luther. “They haven’t had any success resuscitating him, but they’re still trying.” 

She unwrapped a small gauze packet and pressed it to his ear, followed by a couple strips of tape to hold it in place. “Do you feel like you need to be transported?”

“No,” Connor raised one hand to swipe at his suddenly-wet eyes and realized his hands were covered in Tate’s blood.

“Here,” Kara’s voice was gentle as she handed him a box of wipes and leaned against the door. “Stay here. We can’t let you go until you’re cleared by a superior officer.”

Connor swallowed the hot lump in his throat and focused on scrubbing the blood off of his hands until Captain Allen appeared in front of him. His eyes were bleary and his hands raw when he looked up.

“Stern,” Allen put a hand on his shoulder. “I’ve decided to send you home. Another officer will have to drive—your cruiser is being kept for crime scene investigation and to repair the damaged window.”

Connor nodded, scooting off of the ambulance bumper. “Understood.”

“You’ll have to fill out a statement within the next 24 hours, which you can complete on your shift tomorrow morning.” Allen sighed, his breath a cloud in the chilly air. “For now, get home. It’s been a long night.”

With that, he disappeared. Connor aimlessly wandered away from the ambulance, flinching when Luther slammed the doors shut. His car was just a few feet down the road—he couldn’t look at the white sheet on the other side of the street.

He leaned against the hood and pulled out his phone to call Niles, even though he knew his brother wouldn’t be awake for hours.

Gavin jerked awake when his phone started to ring, nearly knocking it off of his bedside table when he grabbed it. Tina was probably crawling back to apologize for being rude, though he had no idea what her business was calling him at three in the morning.

Except it was Chris's caller ID. 

“Hello?” He tried to keep the tired gravel out of his voice. 

“Hey, sorry to call this late. There’s been another shooting on the 1100 block of Court Street.” Chris sounded rushed, and he could hear sirens in the background of the call. “I know this is your case, so I thought I’d get you out here.” His heart sank to his stomach. Connor was on shift.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Gavin forced himself out of bed and pulled his jeans back out of the laundry hamper, followed by his leather jacket off of the foot of the bed. His night was about to become the rest of his day.

He stifled a yawn as he stepped out of his car twenty minutes later. There were police lights everywhere, bathing the entire street in red and blue. They hadn’t even taped off the crime scene yet. Tiny snowflakes were starting to drift down from yellow-lit clouds overhead. Where was Connor? He had to be on scene.

“I didn’t think you’d wake up enough to get out here,” Chris greeted him as he walked up to the car at the center of the scene. “It’s another murder with the damn Corolla with no plates. We’ve put out an alert to Detroit Baptist to let us know if they receive any gunshot victims with no explanation.”

Gavin nodded, walking past an abandoned Taurus. There was a white sheet covering the officer’s body, though it couldn’t do much to cover the blood staining the pavement. Or his boots with his pants barely tucked at the ankles.

His heart was pounding as he knelt down to pull the sheet back. It couldn’t be Connor—Connor couldn’t die. He slid the sheet down, almost expecting to see the straight line of Connor’s nose or the easy waves in his brown hair.

Officer Tate’s round nose and buzzed blonde hair greeted him instead, his skin stark-white and one spatter of blood staining his chin. Gavin hated the swell of relief in his chest—Connor was alive, but another officer was dead. Tate was a private fresh out of the academy.

And now he was dead in the street. His wounds were congruent with the other three murders: the killing shot was either to his neck or to his armpit—Gavin had no idea which got him first—and there were two other casings lying in the road next to his vest’s front plate. 

He sighed, his breath blowing a cloud in the air, and pulled the sheet back up.

“Did he at least call for backup before he stopped the car?” He turned to Chris.

Chris nodded, rubbing his gloved hands together. It really was freezing out—Gavin wasn’t sure when winter had set in, but it had. “Simon was his backup, said the car was occupied two times. A bald guy and his girlfriend. He was also shot, though it looks like he’s going to make it. Stern was the next guy on scene. I’m not sure where he’s gotten off to. They couldn’t start a pursuit because the Corolla was long gone once Stern showed up."

“Thanks, Chris,” Gavin stepped to the side as one of their photographers walked up, camera in hand. “Let me know if you see him around.”

He poked around the scene as best he could, noting the shattered glass on the road next to Tate’s body—he or Simon had gotten at least one shot off. Or even Connor. The golden Corolla was missing at least one window, and there was even a chance Mackenzie had been hit. Or maybe Penelope. It was no coincidence that Mackenzie had a woman with him.

Gavin wandered towards the ambulance that was sitting on the other side of the street, his eyes settling on a pair of knees hanging off of the back bumper. He couldn’t see their owner with the ambulance door in the way, but. But it could be Connor. Or it could just be a witness.

He really just needed to know Connor was alright.

“Hey, Reed, c’mere,” someone called from his left. He turned to find Chris waving him over. “We’ve got a couple of witnesses.”

Gavin gave the ambulance one last look, then started towards the two people huddled on the sidewalk. They were both in their pajamas, their shoulders wrapped in penguin-pattern and polka-dotted blankets.

“This is Detective Reed. He’s investigating this case. Can you repeat to him what you saw?” Chris was, as always, a calming presence on scene. Gavin knew he was going to be a great father—he also knew he had to stop Alexander Mackenzie before Chris was his next victim.

“I mean, it looked like a normal traffic stop,” the woman tugged her blanket on tighter, scuffing her slippered feet. “The first guy pulled over a gold car, but he didn’t get out until another policeman was here. I thought they were going to shoot the driver—they both snuck up on the car with their guns drawn and they were yelling at the driver the whole time.” She took a shuddering breath, though Gavin wasn’t sure if it was emotional or because she was cold. “Then the guy shot them and it turned into a big gunfight with the third cop until the gold car just took off. The first cop and the blonde one got shot.”

“Did you see the driver or any passengers?” Gavin kept his voice even and calm.

“We could only see the passenger. We live up there on the second floor,” the older woman pointed up at a loft apartment, her penguin blanket flapping in the wind, “so we couldn’t see the man. She was white, with nappy blonde hair.”

“Was she scared at all?”

“No, no, I don’t think so. I would have gotten the hell out of that car, but she stayed in there. We didn’t see some of the shooting because I made Cheyenne hide with her kids."

“That was the right thing to do,” Gavin nodded. “Thank you for coming out here. I know it’s chilly.” He turned away as Chris took over, asking for their names and addresses. The ambulance was gone when he looked back over.

But Connor wasn’t. He had a bandage on his ear and his arms tightly crossed as he leaned against the hood of what Gavin assumed was his car. 

Connor saw him at the same moment and watched him as he crossed the crime scene.

Gavin stopped in front of him. “Are you alright?” He didn’t miss Connor’s shivering, his loose hair shaking and his jaw tight. There was blood running down his neck and into his collar.

Connor just shook his head.

“I’m sorry.” Gavin pursed his lips, then shrugged his jacket off of his shoulders and held it out. He could deal with the cold for a bit, even as the snowflakes were falling bigger and bigger.

Connor stared at the jacket for a beat, then reached out and took it, slinging it over his shoulders without putting the sleeves on. “They’re sending me home.” His hands were red and raw. There was blood crusted under his fingernails.

Gavin scooted to the side of the car to stand next to Connor, his shoes crunching in glass he hadn’t noticed on the ground. One of the windows on his Taurus was missing. “Are they keeping your car?”

“For reconstruction,” his response was slow and delayed. Gavin knew shock when he saw it. “And because the window’s gone.”

“I mean, yeah,” Gavin bent to look into the car. “Do you want a ride?” His stomach sank when he saw the bullet hole in the driver’s seat headrest. Mackenzie had damn near killed him.

He looked back up when Connor didn’t respond, and found himself face-to-face with a small, rat-faced man in a trench coat. Even Gavin was nearly a head taller than him—he’d love to see the guy next to Niles. Something about his bearing made Gavin want to squirm, though.

“Officers,” he glanced between the two of them. “I’m Agent Perkins, FBI.” He didn’t bother to lift the too-shiny badge hanging from his neck. “I’m here to inform you that the FBI will be taking jurisdiction over this case. Your work is no longer needed.”

“What?” Gavin’s voice came out strangled and weird.

“I was told you were the ones primarily conducting the investigation,” Perkins looked at him with hooded eyes. “Was I mistaken?”

“No, not at all.” Gavin swallowed. “We’re the primaries. Why are you here?” His world had narrowed down to this one moment in time, his heart a roaring rhythm in his ears and Perkins the only thing he could see. The FBI could take any case they wanted—just not this one. Not when he and Connor were about to—hopefully—hit their stride.

“Good. I’m glad to see you can understand that, at least. I’m taking over this case because it clearly exceeds your capabilities. Consider it a professional courtesy.” Perkins dipped his head at them, then promptly turned and walked away.

Gavin just watched him go, eventually remembering to shut his mouth and wipe the stupid look off of his face.

He turned to see Connor absolutely deflated, his shoulders sagging and his gaze listless as he stared at some point in the road. It made him mad. Perkins had no right to walk all over them—especially not Connor.

But there wasn’t exactly anything they could do. Gavin swallowed the hot coals in his throat and put a hand on Connor’s shoulder.

“Come on,” he guided Connor across the crime scene and to his car. He waited until they were nearly to the highway to open his mouth again. “Where do you live?”

“Soncy, behind the Walmart,” Connor’s voice was small. 

Gavin, thankfully, knew where his apartment complex was. Primarily because he knew where the Walmart was. They rode in silence, Connor occasionally holding his hands up to the air vents or picking at his fingernails.

His apartment was tucked into the corner of the furthest block, the building half-hidden by trees and his door the last one on the third floor.

Connor nearly dropped his keys trying to jam them into the door, then pushed it open and turned back to face Gavin.

“Do you need anything?” Gavin hovered just outside the door, his hands in his pockets. “Coffee or something?”

Connor rubbed one sleeve across his eye, then dragged his hand down his face. “Can you stay for a little while? I don’t... want to be alone right now.”

“I mean, yeah, of course,” Gavin nodded as quickly as he could and followed the corporal into his apartment, taking the chance to look around as Connor kicked his boots off and dumped most of his gear onto the floor. Gavin’s jacket found a hook on the wall instead. The apartment was open and clean, full of gentle yellows and grays. There was a white fur throw slung over the back of the couch.

“Are you sure it’s just your ear?” Gavin followed him to the hallway, stopping just before the first door. Connor disappeared into what he assumed was the bathroom, based on the bright light inside.

“Yes,” he replied as he started the sink. Gavin dared to step into the doorway, finding Connor scrubbing his nails under the sink. His knuckles were cracked and raw.

“Hey, there’s an easier way to do that,” Gavin tentatively pulled his hands out of the sink, wrapping them in the closest hand towel he could find.

Connor looked in the mirror, seeming to notice his ear for the first time. “I could have died,” he pulled one hand free to feel at the back of his head

“And you’re just now realizing this?” Gavin balled up the hand towel and plopped it on the counter.

“Gavin, do not start this with me,” Connor snapped as he picked at the dried blood on his neck. “I watched someone die tonight, okay?” His voice was softer now. “I’m not going to argue with you all night.”

Gavin took a breath to speak, then let it out, instead wrapping Connor in as gentle of a hug as he could manage. He knew there was a decent chance Connor would kick his ass again or throw him out, but he also knew it was what he’d need in the same situation. What he’d neededin the same situation.

Connor didn’t throw him out. Instead he wrapped his fists in the back of Gavin’s shirt and pressed his face into his shoulder. 

Gavin made up his mind: case or no case, he wasn’t going to let Alexander Mackenzie kill another soul. Especially not his partner’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyways i promise i’ll be nicer to these boys in the future
> 
> thanks everyone for the feedback ily


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you’re reading this note, please reread this chapter! i’ve reuploaded it and changed the plot :>

“Sorry,” Connor mumbled into his shoulder after a beat. “It’s been a long night.”

“What are you apologizing for?” Gavin slowly pulled back to look at him, keeping one hand on his shoulder.

“For snapping at you and for being a stuck-up asshole,” Connor rubbed at one yellow-bruised eye, the other looking downcast at the fuzzy floor mats. “I didn’t start a fight or anything, but I should have been better to you.”

“Is this some kind of post-near-death apology?” Gavin teased. He knew he probably should have said something a little more heartfelt, but he wasn’t exactly good at those things. He’d work on it. Maybe.

Connor dropped his hand to his side, fighting a smile. “No. The near-death thing just moved the schedule up a few hours. I didn’t really intend to tell you this in my bathroom, either.”

“Then take a shower or clean up or whatever and tell me somewhere else,” Gavin squeezed his shoulder and released it, taking a step back towards the door.

“There’s coffee in the kitchen, if you’d like,” Connor put one hand on the sliding door to his bedroom and the other on the counter, taking up practically the whole bathroom. “I’ll be out in a few.”

A few minutes actually was a few minutes. Gavin hardly had time to make himself a mug of coffee before Connor reappeared, his hair stringy and wet and a fresh band-aid on his ear. 

He looked about a thousand times better without blood all over one side of his head and out of his uniform, instead in a hoodie and joggers with the sleeves rolled up.

“Anyways,” Connor spoke as he bent to pull a bottle of water out of the fridge. “We don’t really have a case anymore, but I want to continue working with you.” He cracked the lid off, the lines in his forearms flexing for just a moment. Gavin noticed two thin black bands tattooed just below his elbow—Connor had never struck him as the tattoo type. “I think we could work well together if we got over ourselves.”

“Fowler would be an idiot not to promote you,” Gavin pulled out a stool at the island as Connor hopped up onto the counter. “And I’d be an idiot not to work with you.”

“I mean, everyone’s an idiot from time to time,” Connor’s mouth twisted into a smile. “Some more than others.”

Gavin dared a sip of his coffee and instantly regretted it when he burned his tongue and the roof of his mouth. He swallowed as quickly as he could and swiped a sleeve across his mouth. He’d kind of just proved Connor’s point by attempting to drink too-hot coffee. “All idiocy aside, I’m glad to have you back.” 

“Uh huh,” Connor took a swig from his water bottle, then slid off of the counter. “Which reminds me,” he padded off down the hallway and into his bedroom, then reappeared a moment later with a navy blue jacket in hand. “I got blood on your jacket. This is for you.” He slung it across the island and, instead of returning to the counter, pulled out the stool next to Gavin.

Gavin had absolutely no idea how that had reminded him, but he wasn’t about to complain about the jacket. “Thank you,” he glanced at his watch. It was hardly 5 a.m. “It wouldn’t be the first time that jacket’s been bloodied.”

“Of course not,” Connor followed his glance but didn’t comment on the time. He cleared his throat after a moment and looked back up at Gavin. “Sorry if this is a dumb question, but what happens now that Perkins took the case?”

Gavin turned in his stool to face Connor, leaning one elbow on the island. “I’ll be handing over our case notes as soon as I’m back in the precinct in a few hours. After that, we kind of have to deal with Perkins until he finishes the case or gives up on it.”

“Deal with him?” Connor frowned at the countertop. “He’s going to be around?”

Gavin nodded. “He’ll get a temporary office on the fourth floor, so we’ll be seeing him coming in and out or whenever he needs some grunt work done.” He put one heel on the foot bar in Connor’s stool. “The decent agents generally do their thing and get going, and sometimes even collaborate with you. The cruel ones will make you do their monkey work.”

“As long as the case gets solved, I don’t care,” Connor glanced at him. He somehow doubted that was true—there was a falseness to his words and a fire in his eyes that said the opposite.

Gavin snorted. “I wish I could say the same. Perkins is a piece of shit.”

“I never said he wasn’t,” Connor smiled. “I just said I want the case solved.” He turned in his seat, pushing Gavin’s foot off and knocking their knees together in the process. “And I’m not about to risk my job for the sake of making a point to an asshole.” He enunciated the sentence by thumping his knee against Gavin’s again.

Any thought Gavin had about the damn case or the fact that Connor had just described him perfectly left his head. He took a drink of still nearly-too-hot coffee and hid his face behind his mug.

“You didn’t answer this last time, but why didn’t you report me?” Gavin swallowed and tried to make his voice function again. 

“I figured that you were scared of losing your job,” Connor spun his water bottle on the counter. “And that the worst kind of punishment for you is no punishment at all.” He gave a funny smile as he stopped the bottle. “Besides—I didn’t want to earn your eternal hatred for causing you to lose your job, even if you brought it on yourself.”

Gavin nodded, his eyes falling past Connor’s lips and catching on the ink winding around his arm and finally stopping on his own jeans. He didn’t know how to feel about the corporal seeing right through him. It would have scared him a few weeks ago—now it only slightly scared him.

“Thank you,” he looked back up at the corporal. “Not for the oddly-accurate punishment, but for paying attention, I guess.”

“Paying attention is my job, Gavin,” he gave a sideways look that said nothing but trouble. “Or, at least, the job I want.”

Time to change the subject from Connor’s vague flirtation and anything that required an emotional response. “What’s the tattoo for?”

Connor didn’t get the chance to respond as keys were jammed into the front door. “I’ll tell you later.”

With that, Niles swung the door open and Gavin’s chance at a quiet moment ended.

“Niles is making a visit, by the way,” Connor slid out of his stool to greet his brother, not missing the evident surprise and—maybe?—disappointment on Gavin’s face. He didn’t have any more time to look before Niles was crushing him in a hug.

“God, I’m glad you’re okay,” Niles breathed. “I woke up to at least five messages saying you were involved in a shooting.”

“I’m fine,” Connor squirmed his way out of Niles’s death grip and pushed his hands into the front pocket on his hoodie. “I was just a little rattled and the guy clipped my ear.”

“Uh huh,” Niles shrugged out of his coat and turned away to hang it on the rack. “I called out once they said you’d been sent home for the day.”

Gavin cleared his throat, standing up from his stool and pulling Connor’s jacket off of the island. “I think I’m going to go. I’ve got a lot of paperwork to get done to hand the case over,” he jabbed a thumb at the door. “Thanks for the coffee and the jacket.”

Connor followed him to the door, stopping as soon as the cold greeted him at the doorway. “Thank you for the ride,” he caught the detective with a hand on his shoulder. He was still getting used to Gavin turning on him without hatred all over his face. It wasn’t a bad look. “And for everything tonight.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Gavin nodded as he shrugged the jacket on. The fit was a little long and a little tight around his shoulders, but it was better than nothing. 

“Drive safe,” Connor glanced at the snow drifting down from the clouds. It wasn’t likely to stick, but he’d worked far too many snowy accidents. “I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah,” Gavin nodded again, then turned and hurried down the stairs. 

Niles was downing the rest of his water when he turned away from the door. 

“There’s a whole case of water in the fridge and you choose to drink mine,” Connor took Gavin’s mug and set it in the sink.

“What’s yours is mine, and what’s mine is mine,” Niles crushed the bottle and tossed it into the trashcan. “But really,” he followed Connor back to the entryway as he picked up his vest and boots. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

He dumped his vest in the laundry room and his boots on the floor in his bedroom. “I’m as good as I can be right now,” he pushed a hand through his still-wet hair. “Tate died on me tonight and I thought Simon was going to go, too. And there was nothing I could do about it.” Connor sat down on the foot of his bed.

Niles sat down next to him and put an arm around his shoulders. “It happens, Con. There’s nothing you can do about it now, and there’s nothing you can change. What matters is your response to it.”

“I know,” Connor clenched his teeth. “And I can’t even take it out on the case. The FBI is taking over from here.”

“Then take it out on your other cases,” Niles looked at him out of the corner of his eye. “Since I’m assuming you’re back on your promotion and Gavin bullshit.”

He couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes, I’m back on my bullshit.” 

“Your case notes, please. The whole document.” Perkins didn’t even hold out a hand. He just watched Gavin expectantly.

Gavin wordlessly pulled the yellow manila folder out of his desk drawer and held it out, just far enough that the agent would have to reach. He wasn’t going to start shit.

“I’ll let you know if I require any more information,” Perkins took the file and tucked it under one arm. “In the meantime, don’t come near my case.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Gavin slouched back into his chair and gave the agent a half-lidded glare as he turned and walked away. He hated the falsely-timid slouch to his shoulders and the drawn-in way he carried himself.

He eventually looked back at his computer monitor and all the stupid reports he had to fill out to actually hand the case over. He just wanted Mackenzie off the streets. And he wanted to be the one to do it. 

“The hell are you pissed about?” Hank’s voice was rougher than usual when he walked in, dumping his keys and a to-go bag of McDonald’s on his desk.

He spun his chair to face the lieutenant. “Perkins took our case and he’s being a dick about it.”

“That’s how he always is,” Hank sank into his chair and cracked his neck. “You were a patrol cop in Lansing, right?”

Gavin frowned. “Yeah, until I got the job here. Why?”

“Then why are you wearing a Detroit patrol jacket?” Hank logged into his computer and fished his McMuffin out of the paper bag.

“Because,” Gavin coughed. He’d forgotten what he was wearing. “I’m borrowing it.” This was high school all over again. He might as well be wearing a Letterman with STERN printed across the back of his shoulders.

Hank arched one eyebrow at him as he sank his teeth into his sandwich. “Way too big to be Tina’s,” he spoke around a mouthful.

“What do you care?” Gavin turned back to his computer.

“Because it’s important information,” Hank swallowed.

“I’m borrowing it from Connor. He got blood on mine.” Gavin rubbed at the side of his neck. 

“Uh huh,” the lieutenant took another bite. “I knew you two would get it together eventually.”

Gavin made a face. “What makes you an authority on my social life?”

“Because I’ve watched you do this shit to everyone you’ve been friends with over the past seven years,” Hank lowered his sandwich. “You’re not the asshole you try to be, and people figure that out if they stick around long enough.”

“Shut up and eat your breakfast, old man,” Gavin pulled Connor’s jacket tighter around his shoulders and glared at his computer screen. Hank just laughed at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> but for real thanks guys for putting up with my shit on this chapter because it Would Not cooperate with me!! i’ll hopefully be much quicker and better-written from here!!


	8. Chapter 8

“You’re cleared for duty, Connor,” the therapist smiled as he handed him his clearance report. “Though I’d suggest taking it easy until you’re feeling one hundred percent again. Congrats on the promotion.”

“Thank you...” Connor took the sheet and glanced down at the desk and nameplate between them, “...Jerry. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Jerry just beamed at him as he turned and left the office.

He was finally free of psych evals and paperwork, both to get cleared for duty again and to finalize his promotion to detective. The dumb evaluation wasn’t even because he’d been part of a violent shooting and watched a man die—it was because it was mandatory to promote. Connor folded the sheet and tucked it into his pocket. He was dressed for comfort rather than action today, his badge clipped to the waistband on his jeans and peeking out from under a white button-down and black sweater.

He decided that he might as well stop and see Simon before turning in his paperwork and moving desks, especially since he was already on Detroit Memorial’s sprawling campus. 

The walk was a brisk one, the wind dry and chilly through the nearly-bare trees. Halloween had come and gone a week ago as if it was nothing, and November was already bringing the winter with it. His ears and nose stung with a particularly sharp gust.

Despite the chill, Connor chose to walk the long way. His path guided him around a pond with a fountain in the middle and over a bridge, circling around the cardiac building and the surgery center. There was practically an entire park enclosed between each of the buildings on campus.

It was good to walk and do nothing for a bit. His mother had always told him to walk to clear his head, and he’d always walked with her on her own walks through the garden. His head was, for once, quiet. No noise about Mackenzie or Gavin, or the DPD—just the quiet park around him.

“Con?” North stepped out of the hospital’s back door on his right. She stuffed her hands into her Columbia jacket and hurried up to him. “Is everything alright? You’re kind of just wandering in the cold here.”

“That’s the point,” Connor smiled at her, noticing how chilly his cheeks felt. “I’m just walking. Want to come?”

“Yes, please,” she glanced back at the automatic doors, then pulled her gray headband down over her ears. “I saw you walking from Simon’s window so I came to get you.”

“I was going to come and see him once I got sick of walking,” North stuck one hand into the crook of his elbow. “Is Markus there?”

“He hasn’t left,” North huffed. “And he halfway expects me and Josh to be there at all times, and everything has to be perfect for Simon.” 

“I mean, he did get shot,” Connor nudged her shoulder. 

North just rolled her eyes. “I know, and I know I need to be nice, but Markus is driving all of us nuts. He told me to put my headphones away because he could hear them and they might disturb the prince.”

“Did you expect anything less from him?” He glanced down at the top of her head. 

She squeezed closer when a gust of wind whipped her hair around her head and into his face. “Are you done walking yet? And no, of course not. I completely expected this, and yes, I’m still mad about it.”

Connor started them on the path back, taking a left turn and crossing the greenway. “All things aside, how is Simon?”

“He’s pretty out of it. They’ve got him on a lot of meds right now, but he seems to be healing alright.” North pushed her hair back and looked up at him. “How are you doing?” 

He shrugged. “My psych eval just got cleared, so I guess I’m halfway alright.” He winced when North dug her fingers into his arm. “I’m hanging in there. I’m mostly frustrated with the FBI for taking the case.”

“I take it Niles won’t let you be mad?”

“No,” he snorted. “Everything has some kind of solution with him, and I just want to be mad.”

“Then we can be mad together,” North kicked a rock in the path. “And what about Reed?”

“Reed’s getting better. We’re going to try being partners again and we talked everything out, so I guess things are pretty good.” He didn’t like how much it sounded like he was talking about a relationship.

“And?” North just looked at him as they crossed the green again to get to the hospital.

“And what?” Connor didn’t return the look.

“He’s exactly your type.” She nudged his elbow as the automatic doors slid open. “Don’t play stupid with me.”

“He is my work acquaintance and soon-to-be work partner,” Connor pushed her hand off of his arm. “Not every asshole idiot is boyfriend material.”

North clearly wasn’t convinced, though she didn’t press the issue as she hit the elevator call button. “Just do as Markus says and you’ll be fine.”

Gavin stifled a yawn and cracked the top open on his energy drink. Tonight was going to be a late one if he wanted to actually get anything done before he had the next three days off. Of course, one of those wasn’t going to be much of a day off—almost the entire police force and practically half the city would be attending a memorial service for Tate and the other three officers killed by Mackenzie.

It didn’t help that he’d spent the whole day on mostly unproductive things like testifying in court or filing a closing report on the Mackenzie case or shuffling the same three narcotics cases around on his desk because he struggled to force himself to focus on anything but Alexander Mackenzie. 

Gavin took a long drink and smacked the can back on the table. He had more than a few drug cases to get caught up on. He’d all but abandoned them to the police department when Connor came along, and now he had to get right back into them.

At least the drug cops hadn’t entirely let him down. Each case had at least a page of notes added, all in the clear, concise writing cops were forced to use. His own notes were not so clean. Gavin could see a very defined line between Cop Notes and Gavin Notes, primarily because of the lack of slang and actual organization present.

One of his primary cases was on a drugs and stolen cars ring run by someone who went by Lincoln. He was pretty sure Abraham wouldn’t have approved of his namesake’s illegal activities, but that made no difference to him. He might have cared a little less if Lincoln was just a plug with a lot of connections, but he wasn’t. Lincoln ran an entire operation to rip cars, stuff them with all kinds of drugs, and send them to God-knows-where. 

Sure, there were several operations like this in a city like Detroit, but what bothered him was what Lincoln was dealing. Weed was one thing—cutting with fentanyl was another. Several overdose deaths had been linked back to Lincoln’s people.

Gavin made a note to talk to the current arrest suspects and stifled a yawn. He’d have to wait to talk to them until after his days off.

“Detective,” Perkins’s nasally little voice broke into his workspace. “We’re having a difficult time deciphering your case notes. It would be much appreciated if you went through them and… clarified your language.” The agent tossed the folder onto his keyboard. “Typed would be preferred.”

Gavin squinted at him. He’d lost track of time, apparently—any last vestiges of sunlight outside were completely gone. Going home would probably be a good idea, at this rate. “Huh?”

“I’d like to have these done by the end of the night, since you’re clearly planning on being here for a while,” he tapped the top of his drink, then turned and walked away. Gavin took the case off of his keyboard and glared at it, then tossed it to the far corner of his desk. He didn’t have to do jack shit for Perkins.

Connor pushed the door open with his shoulder and stepped into the precinct. The place looked vacant down the hallway, the lights dimmed and all the computer screens turned off. Perfect. 

Eleven at night was normally unbelievably late for him, but not tonight. He was forcing himself out of his nocturnal schedule and back onto something that could be considered normal, and he needed something to keep him awake. So he was moving his things from the police station to his new desk in the precinct. Fowler had taken the time to properly show him around earlier in the day, pointing out his desk next to Gavin’s and where everything useful would be. He kind of already knew from visiting Niles, but the captain’s courtesy was greatly appreciated.

He rounded the corner from the lobby and realized he was not actually alone. One computer monitor was on, its screensaver waving neon tendrils of lights above someone’s head. That someone was almost definitely Gavin, his head tucked into his arms on top of the desk and his hood over his head. At least he’d remembered the detective’s jacket.

Connor set the box at the end of his desk as gently as he could and pulled Gavin’s leather jacket out first, then draped it over his shoulders. Gavin didn’t move. Judging by his computer, he hadn’t been asleep for too long. Connor decided he’d wake him up before he left.

He quickly realized he had a lot more desk space to work with than he had in the police station. The L-shaped desktop was giant compared to his other one. It was also incredibly dusty. If detectives were bad at one thing, it was cleaning. Hank’s desk was exhibit A.

The maintenance closet, of course, was hidden all the way back by Niles’s cave of an office. It was well-stocked and, aside from the mop bucket, mostly unused. Connor shook the dust out of the Swiffer he found and returned to the bullpen to find almost everything as he’d left it. The automatic light in the break room was on, but it could have come on for any number of reasons.

He dusted his desk off and hit the power button on his computer. Nothing. He blew his hair off of his forehead and tried holding it down. Still nothing. Not even a light.

He’d deal with that in a minute. Connor stuffed the Swiffer handle into his back pocket and walked over to the break room. It was totally empty, though there was a still-sweaty plastic water bottle sitting on the counter above the trash. He dropped the empty bottle into the trash and turned the light off, then crossed the bullpen to return the Swiffer to its rightful home.

Gavin was up and digging through his box of stuff when he returned, his jacket thrown over the back of his chair and his hood still on his head.

“Is there any reason you’re going through my stuff?” Connor pulled his hood off of his head as he walked up, passing Gavin’s shoulder and stepping inside the angle of his desk.

“Don’t do that shit,” Gavin glared at him. He had little red lines across his face from where his sleeves had imprinted his skin. “I’m going through your box of goodies because I want to.” He was shuffling what had been a perfectly-solved Rubix cube. “What are you doing out this late, night cop?"

“Trying to get back on a halfway-normal schedule,” Connor pulled the box away from where it sat at the top of the L and out of Gavin’s reach, pushing his chair out of the way as he did so. Gavin just hopped up onto the desk and scooted down to reach into the box again, setting the cube to the side. “What are you doing asleep at your desk?” Connor grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand out of the box.

“I was sleeping,” Gavin continued to watch him as he pulled his DC mug out of the box. “When did you go to DC?” He jerked his head at the mug. 

“I went with Niles over the summer,” Connor set it next to his computer, then pulled his pens out of the bottom of the box. It was a cheap thing, all blue plastic and colorful rubber inlaid on the sides. “We stayed for four days and still didn’t see everything.” He fished his little stack of pictures out of the box and handed it to the detective. “There’s a picture in there somewhere.”

“These are all pictures,” Gavin shot back. Connor just flicked his shoulder and pulled out his beloved Porg bobblehead, which found its home between his monitor and keyboard. He still needed to plug the dumb computer in.

“Who’s this?” Gavin looked up at him and held out one of the photos. “Do you have another brother?”

“Colin, probably,” Connor glanced at the picture. “He’s the evil middle child.” 

“Oh,” Gavin nodded and looked back down. “Does he live in town?”

“Is there a reason you’re asking?” Connor gave him a sideways look and watched his cheeks turn red.

He spluttered for a moment, making a face. “No, I literally want to know if your brother’s in town,” Gavin glared back once he’d recovered. “Am I not allowed to care about you as a person?”

“Absolutely not,” Connor smiled. “I’m just a robot with no life outside of this police department.” He took the picture from Gavin’s hands. “This was the last time I saw Colin, actually. We took this seven years ago.” The photo was from the last Christmas they’d spent together. They all had just a little extra fat in their cheeks and a few less lines around their eyes. At least, he and Niles did. He wasn’t so sure about Colin.

Gavin frowned. “Is he who your tattoo’s for?” His voice was quiet. Cautious.

It took him a minute to figure out what the detective was implying. “What?” Connor blinked, instinctively touching his forearm. “My tattoo?”

Gavin turned red again, one hand rising to the back of his neck. “Your tattoo. It’s a mourning band, right?"

_Oh_. That. "He’s not dead, Gavin. He just hates me.” Connor suppressed a laugh as he passed the picture back. “And no, he’s not in town. He lives in Oregon.”

“Why does he hate you?” Gavin shuffled the picture to the bottom of the stack.

He paused for a long moment, debating. He dug out the space heater he always kept under his desk and set it to the side. Time to get the focus off of him and his prodigal brother. “Do you have any siblings?”

The detective looked at him for a minute, clearly weighing whether or not to push the issue. His eyes flicked between Connor and the pictures. “An older brother,” Gavin worked his phone out of his pocket and unlocked it. He wasn’t going to push it. “Elijah Kamski.”

Connor pulled his stack of postcards, diplomas and certificates, and last few knickknacks out of the box, then dropped it to the floor. That name was familiar, though he couldn’t quite remember where from. “Kamski?"

“Yeah, you know, tech mogul, ’Steve Jobs reincarnated,’ all that shit.” Gavin held out his phone. The pieces clicked when he looked at the picture. Though Elijah’s clothing and hair and entire persona exuded “I’m the Ultra-Rich CEO of Cyberlife,” there was an undeniable resemblance between him and Gavin. The two of them were together at a dinner somewhere, though Gavin looked uncomfortable and Elijah just looked bored. “I kind of get the whole prodigal brother thing—he changed his name to avoid being associated with the rest of the family.”

“He sounds like an asshole,” Connor passed his phone back. “Is that why you have a brand new phone?”

Gavin snorted. “That’s the only way he knows how to show any kind of love—phones and new shit from Cyberlife. My parents have a smart fridge that can practically run their lives."

Connor looked at him for a long moment, tracing over the crooked bridge of his nose and often-squinted green eyes. He wasn’t squinting tonight. The sleep lines had faded from his face, leaving him with rumpled hair and stubble that he should probably shave at some point or another.

And Gavin just looked back, quietly searching his face. Connor had never expected this kind of vulnerability with him—they could barely look at each other when they first met. Now he was opening up about his family and feeling some sort of way about the detective. He wasn’t even sure if North or Markus knew Colin existed.

Gavin cleared his throat and grabbed his wrist, breaking him out of his thoughts. His hand was warm and Connor wanted more of it. “You never told me what the dumb tattoo was for."

“If you’re going to call it dumb then I’m not going to tell you,” Connor stepped a little closer, Gavin’s knees bumping against his hips. He tried to ignore that part and the way Gavin scooted just a little closer to the edge of the desk. He worked his sleeve up to his elbow, cuffing his button-down over the sweater sleeve on top of it. “It’s for my parents.” He watched as Gavin ran a thumb over the two black lines, their heads nearly bumping and their breaths mingling somewhere between them. “A drunk driver killed them when we were little.”

“Jesus,” Gavin breathed. “Do you remember them at all?” He didn’t release his wrist, instead resting his palm across the inside of his forearm. He didn’t quite understand the gesture, but it felt something like comfort.

“Some,” Connor shrugged. He couldn’t really make himself feel anything about it. Amanda was more of a mother to him than he ever remembered his actual mother being. “Niles doesn’t. We didn’t have any grandparents who could take us, so we grew up with a woman named Amanda. She was close friends with my parents and might have been our godmother, but I can’t remember.” He used one hand to sift through the pile of photos for a moment until he found what he wanted. “She actually works for Cyberlife now. She used to be an engineering professor at Michigan State."

Gavin looked at the picture for a moment. Connor knew it was from his police academy graduation, Amanda wrapped in one of her usual kimonos and him decked in his still-bare police formals. They were a little more decorated now, but still.

“You mean to tell me that you graduated from the police academy?" Gavin smiled at him.

“I’m only slightly smarter than you think I am,” he returned the smile. The tiny bit of space between them felt heady and hot, and Connor realized the tops of his thighs were against the desk. Gavin looped one heel around the back of his knee. “Any tattoos with a tragic backstory that I should know about?”

“Not that I know of,” Gavin still had that smile on his face, ending with a hook in the corner of his mouth. He leaned back onto his hands, scooting that much closer to the edge of the desk.

Connor followed him, leaning forward to rest his palms on the false wood, his elbows brushing Gavin’s ribs…

…Only to jump apart when footsteps began to echo from the stairwell. Connor took his chance to scoot under the desk and plug in his computer, if only to get some space to breathe. Gavin hardly bothered to straighten up.

“Sorry, computer’s been unplugged for months. It’s city protocol to unplug unused electronics,” Gavin leaned forward to peer down at him. Connor didn’t have time to marvel at how easily he went back to his usual self. “Fire hazard or some shit.”

“Detective,” Perkins called as soon as the stairwell door squealed open. “Have you finished typing up the case notes?”

“Nope,” Gavin swung his feet in the air, hands gripping the edge of the desk. Connor blew the dust off of the surge protector under his desk and plugged in the computer, then the monitor. 

“Is someone else here?” Perkins stopped on the other side of the desk, somewhere behind Gavin. 

“Just Connor,” he was nonchalant.

Connor stood up from underneath the desk, dusting his pants off. “Do you need something?” He was convinced that Perkins always looked exactly the same, down to the clothes he wore. He’d never seen him in anything other than a button down and a coat, and he had the exact same amount of stubble as he’d had two days ago. 

“I do, actually. I requested several hours ago that Detective Reed type out your case notes.” Perkins crossed his arms. “And, evidently, nothing has been done.”

Gavin’s look was nothing short of baleful. 

“Gavin’s not smart enough to be an FBI agent, is he?” Connor leaned one hip against the desk and crossed his arms. “We’re both clearly too incompetent to finish the case, so you’ll have to help us out here.” He reached over and grabbed the familiar yellow file off of Gavin’s desk. “I’m not sure either one of us could figure it out.”

Perkins snatched the file out of his hands and strode off without a word.

Gavin hopped off of the desk and circled around to his own. “I’m not going to thank you for calling me an idiot,” he took a moment to log off of his computer, then jingled his keys out of the top drawer. “I’ll see you in a few days.”

“You’re welcome,” Connor offered his best smile, and Gavin just smiled and shook his head as he shrugged his jacket on. He made a quick exit, leaving Connor by himself in the dimly lit bullpen.

He was in trouble, and not just with Perkins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyways college started, so i'm going to be slow for the next forever.


End file.
